The Something
by Kari Anna
Summary: COMPLETE. PRESLASH. Title subject to change. Nicolae makes Buck feel something he doesn't recognize, and now everyone's favorite journalist is stuck with the man for three days. Rated for safety, and for preslash. SEQUEL PENDING
1. The Something

AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is set during the undescribed eighteen-month period in the end of _Tribulation Force_. The authors of the series did not explain how Buck finally succumbed to the pressure to take the job of publisher for the Global Community-owned _Global Community Weekly._ Plus I just wanted to shamelessly take advantage of that unused eighteen months, as well as the obvious chemistry between Buck and Nicolae.

WARNINGS: Pre-slash slashiness, and some things may be incorrect or people may seem out of character, due to the fact that this fanfiction author has not yet read past _Tribulation Force._

DISCLAIMER/Cheesy yet dramatic opera music in the background, a crash of cymbols, and then the loudest opera singer loudly declares in glass-breaking soprano/ She does not own anything... except the plot. /Crickets chirp as one single audience member claps with an air of uncertainty. Someone with more sense throws a shoe at the lone clapper, shutting him up/

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**PART ONE**

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**The Something**

It was a lot like the emotion that came of having an itch deep down beneath the skin, so far down that all the pressure of trying to scratch it only made it worse by increasing awareness of the spot.

Cameron "Buck" Williams had finally found a good analogy for the way the person in front of him made him feel.

"I am very happy you have finally decided to join the team, my friend," Carpathia said, his usual disarming smile turned up a notch, as it always seemed to be around him.

Buck couldn't really say the same. Besides, everything Carpathia was saying was going in one ear and out the other. The new publisher of the _Global Weekly_-- redubbed _Global Community Weekly_-- was still critiquing his analogy. It was good, but incomplete. That... irritation wasn't the only feeling that assailed him whenever he was in the new Potentate's presence.

There was a bit of an adrenaline rush. The sort Buck used to get when he tried a new trick on his bicycle when he was a kid, and he was sure he'd biff it but was trying to defy fate. This was contradicted by a strange feeling of comfort that shouldn't have been there, because it wasn't the same as the comfort he felt from God. It was the comfort of knowing Nicolae didn't really _want_ to hurt _him_, and would in most instances probably repeat the Stonagal/Todd-Cothran murder to protect Buck.

But the worst feeling was The Something. The Something was an emotion that had a name, Buck knew it did, but he couldn't quite identify it. Or maybe he was just not willing to. And whatever The Something was, it came with a feeling of damnation. So whenever The Something began to well up in him, Buck thought of hellfire and brimstone.

It hadn't helped yet.

Finally through analyzing the sensations for what felt like the millionth time, Buck sighed. He was tired. He'd had no sleep when he arrived at his hotel, and all during the stupid plane ride he had been bombarded by questions from Steve. Now he knew why so many "normal" people disliked journalists. He really wished the man hadn't flown all the way to Chicago just to accompany him to the U.N. building in New York.

"You are tired, Buck."

Buck wasn't quite so out of it, though, that he didn't feel guilty over the way The Something swelled when Nicolae said his name. He wished the man wouldn't say his name _that way._ "Yeah, I haven't had much sleep lately, with all the breaking stories."

Nicolae frowned, and seemed to sink into deep thought for a moment. Then he smiled. "Perhaps you should spend a few days recuperating, my friend." The weary journalist opened his mouth to protest, but was cut off. "Now, I know you will not take my advice if you go back to the hotel, or back home. So I insist you stay with me. We shall take time off together, 'get caught up,' as you Americans say, and rest. You need it. You do not relax enough, Buck."

There he went saying Buck's name again.

"I need to get home to my wife now," he argued futilely. Part of what made it so hopeless was the lack of conviction in his own statement. If Nicolae sensed any indecision, any slight wavering, he would take advantage of it.

And he did. Smiling, he said, "Come, my old friend. As lovely as your new bride must be, and as anxious as _you_ must be to return to her, your weariness would hinder you. Returning home now could only agitate you."

Irritably, he thought God shouldn't let the Antichrist make good points. It was unfair. Not that it wouldn't have been a losing battle anyway. That gave Buck an idea. _God,_ he prayed silently,_ deliver me from this situation. You promised that no weapon formed against your followers would prosper. Foil Nicolae's plan, Lord, please. You know more than I do about The Something, and I know You won't let that weapon strike its mark if he finds out about it and chooses to use it against me. Give me the words to get out of this. Thank You, Father. Amen._

Waiting in silence, Buck felt nothing. No compulsion from above to speak certain words, no heavenly hint to stay silent, not even an extra idea bouncing around in his head. Apparently God was going to make him wing it. He hoped he'd pass the test.

Dread rose within him with the sure belief that The Something wouldn't need any help from Nicolae to send him to hell.


	2. The Siren

I've got most of this fic written out. It'll be four parts in all, and there will be a sequel, so be on the lookout for that.

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**PART TWO**

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**The Siren**

On his own, Buck's usually brilliant manuevering tactics failed him. He was too tired for dodging anything, let alone an offer of undisturbed rest. He could call Chloe on his cell phone, tell her there'd be a few days' delay.

It shouldn't be too hard to ignore the fact that he was staying with the Antichrist. His fatigue would take care of that, for the most part. The hard part would be dealing with The Something for three more days. Their meeting had granted them less than an hour, yet The Something was getting to him so badly already that Buck felt like hijacking the nearest highspeed car and getting out of there, pronto.

The Something was suffocating him. It made the air between him and Nicolae feel like tar; thick and dark and hard. He almost wondered if he'd be able to move at all through it. Nicolae took care of that, like he took care of everything. Strong hands squeezed Buck's shoulders, and the man they were attached to said, "Come, I will escort you to our quarters. After we are rested, we will call in the maseuss."

Guided down the hallway, Buck thought, Our _quarters? I should have known. When he says he wants to keep an eye on someone, he really keeps an eye on them._ He felt he should have been more alarmed, but sleep deprivation had more effects on him than the more cooperative attitude he'd found himself adopting.

Nicolae eventually steered him through a doorway, after passing two floors on an elevator. "So this is where all the dignitaries bunk down," Buck said, fighting to keep from yawning midsentence.

The living area was almost the size of Buck's whole apartment in Chicago, and his apartment wasn't exactly dinky. That room and the kitchen flowed together somewhat, in a fairly open space that could also afford some small privacy for a quiet talk.

"No, although I also thought so when I was originally brought here. This suite was given to me alone. Before you is the linen closet, to your left the wash closet, and on the right is the bedroom. You will sleep there, and I will have no argument over this."

Buck blinked. That eliminated all three doors. There was no second bedroom, for all the size the suite had. Ingrained in him by his parents from the time he could speak, his politeness shone through the haze of exhaustion. "But where will you sleep?"

"On the couch," was the reply, as if it were the most natural thing in the world for the Antichrist to give up his bed for a journalist.

"No, take the bed."

That seemed to amuse Nicolae. "Only if you care to share it, my friend."

It took a moment for the implications of that to register in Buck's overworked brain. The words were out before he could stop them, and as soon as they had slipped out Buck knew they were the wrong ones. "I shouldn't even be staying here."

Nicolae shook his head. "Do not say that. You will stay here, on that bed, and you will sleep soundly."

Before he knew it, Buck was being guided again, this time toward the bedroom. He argued tiredly and without reason or logic that Nicolae should take the bed. Maybe his parents had gone a little too far when instilling good manners in him. The next thing he knew, Nicolae had pulled the shoes off of both of them and laid down on the bed to quell Buck's protests. Then he was pulled down onto the bed and before he could think of the negative ramifications, his head hit the bed and he was out cold.

For a few minutes Nicolae just watched him sleep.

* * *

Deep in the night, when the sky was pitch black but for whatever dim light the streetlamps afforded outside, something made Buck wake up. Only slightly concious, all he knew was that he was cold, and there was another warm lump on the other side of the bed. He scooted close to it, and it enfolded him before what little conciousness he had escaped him again.

* * *

Nicolae smiled in sleepy amusement. He'd forgotten to pull the covers over them before they had fallen asleep, and sometime in the night Buck had moved over to him for warmth. He knew it was not himself who had closed the gap because he hadn't moved but to put his arm around Buck. 

He slid off the bed, careful not to wake the weary journalist, and slipped out into the main room. Out of the linen closet he grabbed an extra blanket. He covered Buck with it, then got under it himself with a good book.

It was a good hour and a half before the sleeper stirred. Buck sat up and rubbed at his eyes in an attempt to clear the heavy, glued-together feeling. Not recognizing his surroundings, he looked around blearily. One eyebrow lazily went up when he saw Nicolae sitting up next to him.

"And here I thought I was awake."

Nicolae smiled. "You are, my friend."

Buck searched his memory. His other eyebrow joined the raised one. "Oh, yeah."

"Although, I am flattered you would think this a dream." _More like a nightmare,_ Buck thought. His sarcasm had returned with what wits the much-needed sleep had afforded him. "I will call the maseuss and tell him to expect us."

Buck shook his head and tried to rise. "Got a story I need to cover this morning."

One hand kept him down, showing how weak he was. Too much constant running around, too much demand on his attention. "You have slept, but you are still weary, my friend. Do not push yourself too hard."

"I'm not pushing myself too hard. I'm being a good journalist," he shot back with a hint of his old, confrontational nature.

Nicolae clapped him on his shoulder. "You already are, my friend. Stop trying to prove what the world already knows."

_I wish You'd stop letting him make good points, Lord,_ Buck thought. There really was no use killing himself over it, even if he _could_ convince Nicolae to let him go. The story was a small matter, compared to what he usually wrote. Just another riot in New York. Its headline wouldn't even be in large print. It would be one of the small, one-paragraph dealies that had titles the same size as the rest of the print, just in bold type. He assigned himself one of those occasionally, just to make sure the staff at the _Weekly_ knew he wasn't going to nab all the good stuff.

After the call to the maseuss was placed, Nicolae ordered an outfit for him while he was in the shower. It was ready by the time he was out. Dressed only in a terrycloth robe that was an inch too long in the arms and made for a man with a slighter build, he ventured back into the living room, intending to go straight to the bedroom to change. Instead his temporary roommate seemed bent on a little chat.

"The clothes are on the bed. After you are dressed and we have been to the maseuss, we must meet with our old friend Chaim. I have had a most interesting telephone call from him. I told him we will meet him at noon for lunch at a place of your choosing. Where would you like to go?"

His mind drew a blank. Why was it that only happened around Nicolae? And why on earth did the man have to discuss this while he was indecent? Finally Buck got his brain working again. "Anywhere that serves edibles. Within reason."

"Choose a place. Surely you have a preference for one type of food. American, Thai, Italian, Mexican, Chinese," Nicolae suggested. He seemed amused at Buck's brainfart.

"Can we discuss this in a minute? I'd like to get dressed."

Nicolae raised one hand and waved it a little. _Oh._ He was still on the phone with Rosenzweig.

"Uhh... Chinese."

"Excellent choice." Into the phone, Nicolae said, "We will meet you at Jade Dragon. It is the best Chinese restaurant in New York. Of course. Yes, he will be there. Goodbye, my friend." He hung up and rose from the sofa. "Help yourself to one of the books in my bedroom while I ready myself, Buck. They are all fascinating reading."

Buck nodded dumbly.

He had come out of his stupor and was dressed and settled in a comfortable armchair in the corner of the bedroom, buried in a book when Nicolae entered the room. With the sound of something dropping, Buck became aware he wasn't the only person in the room and his head snapped up. He blushed and returned his gaze to his book. Mentally, he chanted, _I didn't see that. I didn't see that. I didn't see that._ Then paused as he heard one of the dresser drawers slide open. He cursed silently. _I did see that._

Nicolae had dropped his robe in a pile of blue-green terrycloth, and was naked as he selected his apparell. It was all Buck could do not to slap himself, because the image of Nicolae's bare backside wouldn't get out of his head. _Looks like he works out, too,_ he thought after sneaking a peek over the top of his book. Now he really wanted to slap himself. _As if it matters whether he's nicely built or not! He's the Antichrist, you're a Christian, and even if he wasn't and you weren't, you're not a woman!_ But that didn't stop The Something from making its presence known, or make it any easier to keep from shifting in his suddenly uncomfortable sitting position.

Worse, the other man pivoted with a slight squeak of his bare heel against the hardwood floor, and struck up a conversation again. Not only did Nicolae have a talent for charismatic speaking, but also a penchant, apparently, for awkward conversations. Maybe it was just Buck.

"I am glad to see you relaxing, my friend. You are always so tense. We must rectify that while you are here. My personal favorite method of relaxing is to read. What is yours?"

Buck glanced up, then lowered his book when Nicolae's gaze caught his own. _Eyes on the face, eyes on the face, eyes on the face._ "Writing, I think."

Nicolae smiled as he pulled on his socks. _Before his boxers? That's really weird,_ Buck thought, his eyes accidentally wandering. He snapped them back to the eyes of the newly-declared potentate. "Perhaps that is what makes you such a brilliant journalist. Maybe it is also why we get on so well. We are symbiotes, are we not? You write to relieve your stress, and I gratefully read your works to relieve mine."

"Yeah," Buck replied, only having been half-listening as he tried to stay focused on soft blue-gray eyes. He had no idea what he'd just yeah'd.

On with the boxers, and finally some came some reprieve from the intense concentration on where his gaze went. Nicolae moved to open the closet, keeping up his end of the conversation. "While we take our respite together, perhaps we can get to know each other better."

Reflexively, Buck thought of what Bruce Barnes had taught him about the man. _I know all I need to know about you. I don't need to know anything more than that you're the Antichrist._ Outwardly, a different knee-jerk reaction gave him a way to respond. Thank God for years of making friends based on small, impersonal encounters. "What's your favorite color?"

* * *

It had been hard to keep his composure when the maseuss had been called away on a family emergency and Nicolae had decided to continue Buck's massage. It was even harder as his muscles lost their tension and resolve, leaving only pleasure to be felt in the gentle pressure of the hands on his back, shoulders, neck. He'd been horrified when a small moan had escaped his lips. Nicolae had chuckled and said there was hope for him yet. 

"Stress may come with the job, Buck, but losing the ability to relax should not."

There went that accursed name-saying again. He tried to ignore it, and The Something.

* * *

A small eternity had passed by the time noon rolled around. After the awkward massage session, Buck was just glad to have an excuse to be more than a foot away from Nicolae. He slid into a booth at the Jade Dragon, sitting next to Rosenzweig rather than be squished against the potentate. The booths were inhumanely small. Slight and frail as he was, even the old Israeli made the bench feel crowded. 

Rosenzweig reached over the table to shake hands with Nicolae, then managed a cramped handshake with Buck as he gave an exuberant greeting to the two. "You haven't been dragging Cameron around ill, have you Nicolae? He looks a bit flushed." Then to Buck himself, "Do you have a fever?"

"No, I'm fine," Buck said. He didn't expound. How could he explain that he was flushed because he'd just had a massage from Nicolae and it had left him feeling... weird and a little embarrassed?

"Good, good. How are both of you? Before you ask, I am fine, if a bit excited."

"We are well, though Buck has been over-exerting himself of late. I am making him take a short holiday," Nicolae replied, shooting the journalist a smile.

Chaim's eyes twinkled at that. He seemed to know something the younger men didn't. "That is good. Everyone needs to relax sometime."

_And everyone's suddenly pushing me to relax all at the same time,_ he grumbled inwardly. When he had called his wife that morning, she had agreed that he needed to relax, but had questioned whether that was possible in the presence of the Antichrist. That question, unbeknownst to Chloe as yet, had been answered during the massage Nicolae had given.

Nicolae ordered for them when Buck confessed not knowing what he wanted to eat. Everything sounded good. Chaim ordered for himself. As the three ate, the old scientist explained why he was so excited. The two witnesses at the Wailing Wall, Eli and Moishe, were going to be refuted. Another old scroll had been found on a dig site, and it had foretold of two men who would claim the Messiah had come, and would call down fire from heaven. The scroll claimed the men were as Pharaoh's magicians when Moses confronted him, and it also foretold of the peace treaty that had so recently been signed. According to the prophecy on the old parchment, peace would be true and complete on Earth when the two men were laid to rest.

Chaim's revelation didn't hold Buck's interest the way it should have. Instead, his attention was divided between the tale of the scroll, and the man sitting across from him.

TBC...

* * *

L-Syllabub: THANK YOU! You're the only person who's reviewed yet, and that was one of the nicest, most coherent reviews I've had. Read what you have of _Immortality and Amorality_, by the way. I love it. Buck seems a little OOC, but I haven't even finished _Soul Harvest_ yet, so I don't know. And that line-- just off the top of my head. Took me less than thirty minutes to write that chapter lol. Beginnings are always easiest for me.

The REST of you: Please review. I _know_ L-Syllabub isn't the only one who's been reading this, so I'd appreciate it if the others would start dropping one or two lines.


	3. The Lightbulb

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**PART THREE**

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**The Lightbulb**

Okay. So he'd wound up sharing the bed with Carpathia again. So he'd woken up snuggled into the arms of the Antichrist.

At least he hadn't seen him naked this morning.

He'd busied himself cooking breakfast as soon as he was done with his shower, and this time he'd had clean clothes to take in with him so there were no embarrassing encounters.

When Carpathia entered the kitchen, Buck had a plate of steaming food waiting for the man. His jaw may have dropped when he saw him though. He'd never seen the young politician in jeans before. The white undershirt was uncharacteristic too. Not to mention a little damp in spots Carpathia had missed when drying off. It clung like a second skin.

Of course it would. The universe was against him, Buck was sure of it. The Something was some sort of cosmic joke, and he wasn't sure who was laughing louder at him-- the Big Guy upstairs, or the big guy downstairs. At this point, he realized he was waxing very cynical.

Carpathia gave him a slow, easy smile that smacked of something just short of laziness. "Are you sure you should not have been a chef, my friend? That food smells most heavenly."

He almost grinned at the compliment. Almost. "Nah, there's no way they'd let me. I'd do an expose on the condition of the kitchen in some highclass restaurant and my ass would be grass."

_Oops._ That had slipped, that little bit of his old nature. The nature that had only been his _before_ he accepted Christ. Being around Nicolae must be drawing it back out. _So now it's back to Nicolae again. I really should make up my mind._ He firmly told himself it was _Carpathia,_ not Nicolae, but his resolution was broken as soon as he saw the pleased expression on the man's face when he took his first bite of breakfast.

"Mmm..." the most inarticulate he'd ever heard Nicolae. "This is divine, Buck. What is it?"

"Basically just eggs and salsa. I add in some other stuff, but it's a pretty simple recipe." _Flattery is supposed to get people nowhere. Instead I'm acting like one of his myriad mindless minions._

"You must write it down for me." When Buck nodded, Nicolae changed the subject, politely talking only between bites. "Today we will go swimming. It is a simple pleasure, but it will be very relaxing. I loved to swim when I was a little boy, and I am sure you did as well."

Actually, Buck had spent most of his freetime at the YMCA when he was a kid. That is, when he wasn't writing. But how did Nicolae know? Maybe he didn't; maybe Buck was reading too much into things.

_But there's no such thing as paranoia around the Antichrist,_ he tried to caution himself. It didn't put him on his gaurd. He was getting to be too at ease with Nicolae. "Yeah, I used to swim all the time when I was growing up."

"Perfect."

* * *

As it turned out, they went swimming at a local place, though not a YMCA. It was crowded and noisy. Buck was through changing into his swimming trunks first, a pair that had been hastily bought at a nearby WalMart. He went through the shower area, only rinsing. That was all he really needed to do, having showered only an hour or two before. He waited for Nicolae next to the pool.

Chlorine was a familiar childhood smell, and therefore pleasant to Buck. When Nicolae finally came out, he was dripping wet, as Buck was sure he himself was. His hair was plastered to his head in dark blonde strips, and the smile on his face was rather playful.

He felt a goofy grin cross his own face, and found he could not get rid of it. Buck tackled him into the pool with no worries about injury, since they were at the deep end. They surfaced, both laughing. When Nicolae caught his breath, he said, "It is wonderful to hear you laugh again. You have been so serious during our last several meetings, and our few telephone calls."

For the time being, the facts that Nicolae was Antichrist, that he himself was Christian had slipped his mind. Nicolae was just another guy, and they were just two friends having fun. The Something welled up in him at the relief in the young politician's tone. "Guess I just needed a break."

"_Now_ you admit that I was correct," was the teasing reply.

Buck got in touch with his inner schoolgirl a few hours lateron the way out,when he slipped on the wet floor no more than five feet from the pool. Nicolae rushed to him, frantically shouting for medical help, _now_, God dammit!

He sat up. "I'm fine." Or tried to. Dizzy, he fell back from about halfway up, and his head would have slammed the floor rather painfully if not for the hand behind it.

"No you are not. You are bleeding. Stop trying to get up," Nicolae ordered. He wound up having to hold Buck down with one hand (an easy feat with the injured man still dazed from the knock on his skull), and cushioning his head with the other.

Eventually a lifegaurd came with a First Aid kit, and between her and Nicolae they got Buck's head bandaged up temporarily. The woman was no nurse, but it would hold until they could get Buck's skull X-rayed.

They found that he had a slight concussion, and he had lost a little more blood than Nicolae was comfortable with, but generally Buck was okay. When he silently squealed,_ He cares! He cares!_ Buck chalked it up to the concussion.

Back at Carpathia's suite in the U.N. building, the two men sat reading on couches that faced each other. Only Buck wasn't really reading; he was lecturing himself.

_Quit acting like a silly little schoolgirl. What you feel is _lust_, not love, Williams. Confess your sin to God be done with it._

The only problem was, he had tried that already. It didn't make The Something go away, and it didn't change what he'd finally identified it as.

_You just got married. Even if you don't mind going to Hell, think about your wife. It's not fair to Chloe. "Oh, I just realized I've been in love with the Antichrist for over a year. Sorry Chlo." Yeah, that'd go over _just great, he thought caustically. _Ignorance really is bliss._

TBC...


	4. The Revelation

Sorry I said this was done. This is the conclusion, not part three. I thought I had posted this.

Anyway, I just got a job on the 19th, at a smoothie shop. This archive is slower than that shop's slowest day. We authors need to get together and _do_ something about it. Please, contact me.

Maybe we can pimp this archive into a better life.

My email is salsafreak16(at)yahoo(dot)com

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**PART FOUR**

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**The Revelation**

All last night, Buck had slept poorly.

This wasn't normal. Buck never slept poorly. When he woke up, it was long before Nicolae did, and he was again wrapped in the man's arms. He had decided, sometime late that previous night, not to tell Chloe or anyone else but God about The Something and what it had turned out to be.

Problem was, he mused as he sat in a corner of a comfy couch in Nicolae's living room, that strategy wouldn't solve his dilemma-- might even make it worse. If he tried to ignore it completely, it'd drive him nuts and he'd probably eventually screw up and let it slip to Chloe, or someone who would get the secret out to her. On the other hand, if he gave in it'd hurt Chloe, but it would be over with now and she would have a shot at finding someone else before the world ended. Either way, Buck was sure he was going to Hell. No matter how much he had prayed over the past year for God to take away The Something, it was still there. Maybe God just didn't want him in heaven.

The knob on the door to the suite clicked as it unlocked from the other side. Buck looked up from the carpet to see Nicolae enter juggling a bag of McDonald's in one arm and two Starbucks drinks in the other. He jumped up to help, taking the coffees from Nicolae and setting them on the coffee table. The blonde grinned. "Thank you, Buck."

Buck was starting to realize he _really_ liked how his nickname rolled off Nicolae's tongue. "No prob."

"You looked troubled, my friend," Nicolae started as he took food out of the bag, laying it out on the coffee table.

"Long story," the journalist replied. The wonderful smell of greasy burgers and even greasier fries permeated the air, but Buck had little interest in the Spicy Chicken sandwich he was unwrapping. His mind was too busy trying to get him out of the bind his heart had gotten him into. He didn't realize he'd been spacing out staring at the wrapper until Nicolae asked if something was wrong with the sandwich. Buck hadn't touched it. "Uh, nah, just a lot on my mind."

"So I gathered when I got back. What is it? Perhaps I can help." Nicolae was completely focused on Buck, of course, giving him the impression that what bothered him was of great import to the potentate.

_Yeah, help me form a biased decision. No thanks._ "It's just..." For once, Buck failed to have an excuse.

"Just what, Buck? I will help you in any way I can. I will give you anything, unto half of my kingdom, so to speak," Nicolae chuckled, pleased with himself for finding such a fitting comparison.

_I'm damned anyway. What can it hurt to tell a lie now? "_The story, yesterday. The one I was supposed to cover." He got the excuse out, but Nicolae didn't buy it.

"You can tell me anything, my friend."

He had done all his arguing with himself, given himself a dozen reasons he could never tell anyone, but when it came right down to it, love didn't just go away if you ignored it. _Even if you _are_ in love with the Antichrist, of all people. _Hesitantly, Buck replied, "I, um, for a while now I've... felt something toward you. I couldn't identify it, until yesterday."

Somehow Nicolae knew what was coming, and he smiled. "I was wondering when you would."

"You _knew?"_ Buck asked, so startled he dropped his sandwich back on its wrapper.

With a chuckle, the other man replied, "I saw the signs a long time ago, dear Buck."

After a long silence, the journalist found the nerve to ask, "So... what do you think?"

"This is not about what I think. This is about what _you_ think, and what _you_ want to do."

_Of course homosexual love wouldn't disgust the most evil man ever to touch earth._ Buck asked, "This doesn't bother you at all?"

Nicolae smiled, amusement dancing in his eyes. Blue eyes, far too alive for someone who would endure the second death, the eternal death that is Hell. "You have been with the narrow-minded too long, if you believe that I would ever persecute you, Buck. I have nothing but the deepest of heartfelt notions toward you."

Dumbstruck, Buck nodded as he stared off into space, musing.

The cab Nicolae had arranged for Buck sat idling in front of the U.N. building. Between the two lay the black leather duffle that was Buck's only luggage.

Nicolae went around to the other side of the cab, paid the cabbie in cash, said something to the woman. She nodded. When the young politician came back around, he hugged Buck. "Goodbye, my friend."

The world around him seemed to freeze, as Buck stiffened. _Why go? All I can offer the rest of the Trib Force is grief, and I'll make myself miserable. What's the point? My soul is already in hot water, and God isn't doing anything about it._

Then Nicolae started to let go, and the world snapped back as Buck suddenly said, "I'm staying."

END...?


End file.
